She Sings

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Our home has a stairway with a special window. It gives me peeks, of the life outside our walls, each time I walk past. This morning, I walked by my window to hear an eerie song. I stopped for a moment to see her silhouetted against the dense morning fog. Her song was very yet sweet, yet sorrowful. I linger for a moment longer to snap a picture.

Someone pointed out that they are Mourning Doves not Morning Doves. It was interesting to read this about them. A graceful, slender-tailed, small-headed dove that’s common across the continent. Mourning Doves perch on telephone wires and forage for seeds on the ground; their flight is fast and bullet straight. Their soft, drawn-out calls sound like laments. When taking off, their wings make a sharp whistling or whinnying. Mourning Doves are the most frequently hunted species in North America.

Fascinated to learn that they are Mourning not Morning coupled with the sweet, sad song, I wrote a haiku.

About Me

Much like the Psalmists, I struggle with trying to make sense of the hard things in life. Where once inclined to hide, stepping out into the light has left me uncovered. Writing takes the fuzzy, nebulous feelings and harnesses them into thoughts I can better process. I desire my words to be tasty bites of refreshment for your day.